


Feathers Carved in Stone

by Jessicamariek



Category: Final Fantasy X
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 15:12:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessicamariek/pseuds/Jessicamariek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She lived for twelve years, and dreamed for a thousand. A girl named Valefor and the long, winding road to Zanarkand. (FFEX 2013 gift for QueenLua)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feathers Carved in Stone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [queenlua](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenlua/gifts).



> Prompt:  
> "GRATUITOUS FAYTH/SUMMONING SPECULATION/META/BACKSTORY. In all seriousness, I just find the mechanics of summoning, and the story behind the fayth's existence, really interesting. There's an interesting tidbit in that there's only four high summoners prior to Braska (over the course of a thousand years!)--why do so few summoners make it (are the fayth perhaps especially picky in who they choose? what is it like to fail to receive an aeon after entering a chamber of the fayth?)? Details about the origin/particulars/mechanics of the summoning rituals, sigils, sending dance-thing, etc are also cool territory to explore. Seeing the effect that the summons have on their summoners would also be grand (Yuna, Braska, whoever). For what it's worth, Valefor is my favorite, if it makes sense for you to throw her in somehow :)"
> 
> THANK YOU for this one; I think I had more fun writing this than I've had in a long time (and maybe it shows - this may be the longest thing I've ever written). Digging down into Valefor's backstory and the idea of what it would be like to be a fayth was amazing. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did! Huge thanks to Maggie for being a fantastic beta/cheerleader while this was eating my brain. :)

“Why do you offer yourself?”  
The question caught her off guard. The girl blinked – partly in surprise, partly because the dust of new stonework in the half-built temple irritated her eyes. She knew that there were more impressive candidates – strong men and sailors, wise women and healers - and she was not even twelve years old yet, a girl who hadn’t learned to dance or cook, who hadn’t finished her coming of age ceremony, who hadn’t even started her courses yet. Why _had_ she come here?

The answers, of course, flashed before her eyes, as they had done for the last seven months. Her parents, tall and strong and smart – her father’s voice, her mother’s laugh, the smell of fresh bread and roasted fish and the love and warmth that wrapped around their home like smoke. Her baby sister, six years old and charmingly innocent - chubby fingers and tangles as she learned how to braid her own hair, sunny giggles and big dark eyes. Her beloved twin brother, her other half, her partner in crime and punishment and everything in between – his smile, his hand in hers, the unspoken promise that they’d be at each other’s side, from their first breaths to their last.  
The terror as she watched from a hilltop, watched Sin descend on their village. The crushing guilt that she had stared helplessly, as one gigantic appendage crushed her home like a dry acorn cap.  
The girl had been in the forest, setting traps for rabbits and birds when Sin came. She had been the only survivor of her family. And she’d watched the shaman dance the Sending, watched the pyreflies float out of the brightly wrapped bundles that were all that remained of the only people she loved.

She’d come here today because this was the only way she could think of that she could avenge them.

But those were not thoughts that the girl could share with the golden-eyed woman in front of her. The calm, composed Zanark native who had told Spira she could calm the monster who had ravaged them for the last decade – and who had come here, to Besaid, to leave her legacy and teachings for the time when Sin will return. She was tall, slender, and gravely beautiful even in the scandalously revealing garb that was standard for a noblewoman in Zanarkand. The grieving island girl stood in front of her, gangly and weak, too young for this, really – but she was determined.  
“I am not strong enough to defeat the monster on my own,” she said after a long moment. “But I can help those who are.” The woman with the gold eyes stepped forward, taking the girl’s chin in her hand, studying her face.  
“Yes,” Yunalesca said, staring into the girl’s eyes. “You can, and you will.”

The process began with questions – her favorite colors (pink, purple, gold) and her favorite animal (the birds on the island, all bright colors and long feathers) and her dreams (flying, always flying). She drew out the glyph symbols of her names, placing them where the woman told her in a complex-looking diagram, and pulling the curves and lines into something she thought looked beautiful, like the vines twisted around the trees in the forest. There was a potion that tasted like dust and bitterness, a long invocation that she only barely listened to, a kiss of blessing on her forehead.  
As the magic took hold of her in a warm glow that quickly faded away, her insides seemed to crystallize, living flesh transmuting into solid stone. She dropped to her knees in shock, curling into a fetal position over the floor. She could _feel_ her body turning to stone, the pain as the life was drawn out of her burning worse than flames. She gasped as the stone spread through her body, sucking in air until suddenly her lungs didn’t work anymore – and that realization, along with the sudden burning pain on her shoulder blades, convinced her that this had all gone horribly wrong and that she was dying on that cool stone floor. She felt her heartbeat stutter, and bowed her head over her frozen limbs, drawing her brother’s face into her mind as the paralysis consumed her entirely. 

There was a moment of utter nothingness, of floating endlessly in a featureless void, and then – 

And then there was light. There was the feeling of power, of strength, of physical and magical might she’d never known before. The smooth stone lens that covered her human form was smooth enough to use as a mirror, and she saw in its surface her new body – a phoenix bird fully twice as tall as a man, deep rose and violet and gold, covered in beautiful feathers and plumage. And she had _wings_ \- actual, muscular, powerful wings – and a single beat sent her soaring toward the high ceiling of the temple. She came back down, back to Yunalesca waiting beside her entombed body, coming to rest next to the woman and nuzzling her cheek in gratitude and wonder.  
“Valefor,” the woman said. “Your name is Valefor.”

Yunalesca kept her promise, vanquishing Sin at the cost of her own life. Valefor felt her die, and mourned her loss as for a friend. She dozed then, resting in not-quite-sleep for some decades until the first time a summoner came to her to request her aid.  
“Why do you come here?” she asked him, her spirit taking human form as she sat down on the stone covering her fossilized body.  
“Sin has returned, Blessed One,” the man said simply. He was perhaps twenty-five years old, dressed as a priest, and tall and lanky. “I wish to send it back to the underworld from whence it came, and to that end, I humbly request thine assistance.” The strange, formal cadence of his speech was foreign to Valefor, though not incomprehensible, but it fell effortlessly from his lips.  
“Very well, Summoner Khalen,” she said, rising to her feet and extending one hand to him. “Let’s go.”  
“That quickly?” He seemed surprised. “Thou wilt not make me prove the truth of my desire by long prostration or fervent prayer?”  
“I did this to myself in order to go fight that monster,” she said. “I’m not going to say no to a chance to do so.” He stood as she stepped down toward him, taking her hand.  
“Then I shall strive to give thee that chance, Blessed One.” 

They took ship to Luca then, and it was on the Highroad north of that town that Valefor had her first chance to fight for her summoner. The process of killing fiends in her new form was easy, but not necessarily pleasant – and she was disappointed to see that there were fewer real animals around now. It seemed that the fiends had multiplied tenfold since she had last seen the outside world, and they were pushing the other, less vicious creatures into extinction. As they travelled, she quickly grew to know and like Khalen – he too had lost family to Sin, and he doubted that anyone in Spira could say they hadn’t. He was quiet and serious, tended to miss irony and sarcasm when they were aimed at him, and was absolutely dedicated to saving Spira and its people. Once Valefor had convinced him to drop the “Blessed One”s and the thees and thous, to speak to her as a friend, she found that she rather liked talking to him. His only guardians were his older sister – a vicious fighter with two long, thin swords, and a fondness for chocolate and songs around their nightly fire – and his childhood best friend – a studious young man with sandy hair who showed formidable skill with both black magic and white, and who was a better cook than both siblings combined. The bond between the three of them was strong, and when they battled, it was like a dance – every player in his place, every move as it was meant to be. They were a team, a unit, and it would take something extraordinary to break that solidarity. Valefor quite enjoyed being around them. 

Valefor was not the first aeon Khalen had received, and it was in the strange, metaphysical “room” of his well-ordered mind that she first met her fellow fayth. Ifrit was a boisterous young man from the island of Kilika, a sailor and a warrior, and he doted on her from the start. Valefor found out soon that he saw in her quiet cheer and long, dark hair a shade of his younger sister, whose death had been _his_ reason to offer himself to Yunalesca as a sacrifice. In Djose, they were joined by Ixion. The former ship’s captain was a quiet, intense man, but Valefor soon found out the reason for his silence.  
“My sister came up with a plan,” he told her once. “She was made a fayth, the same as us, but our people spirited her stone away during the construction of her temple.”  
“Wasn’t that dangerous?”  
“There was a solid chance it would destroy her completely, but Via – Leviathan – she’s always been a brave woman.” He smiled then. “She’s safe now. Besides, her aspect is that of water. She’s a perfect mother-goddess for a desert people. She’ll watch over our people, and I’ll watch over the rest of the world. We can communicate to each other with nothing but a thought, so we can coordinate our reactions to anything that comes up. As long as we keep in touch, we’ll all be safe.”

Shiva, on the other hand, was a young shamaness, raised in the icy plains of Macalania – and her temple had been built below the frozen ruins of her hometown. She often quarreled with Ifrit, regarding many different subjects (mainly his hot temper and use of harsh language around Valefor) but there was at the same time a strange affection between them – in meeting their opposites, they had met their match. Shiva treated Valefor as a younger sister as well, and she respected Ixion for both the daring ploy he was running with his absent sister and for his calm intellect. The long trek northward gave them much time to get to know one another, and to grow closer to the only other souls who would ever be able to know their situation. 

“I didn’t think the world was this big,” she muttered, looking through Khalen’s eyes at the twisting roots and branches in Macalania Woods and pointedly ignoring Ixion’s snicker.  
“Maps and such are deceiving, Blessed One,” Khalen told her with a thought. “Truly, travel seems to be required to appreciate the scope and beauty of this planet.”  
“ _Valefor_ ,” she corrected him with a hint of irritation, “my name is Valefor. We’ve been through this before, haven’t we?” Khalen laughed, a warm sound that made her smile as her annoyance faded.  
“My apologies, dear Valefor; my training overwhelms me at times. We are taught that the fayth are to be revered above all but Yu Yevon himself, and that we mortals are to address you as befits that reverence. It has gone against my instincts to be told, then, that you wish to be spoken to in so informal a manner; I apologize if I lapse, through lack of concentration or lack of sense, once more into the formality that has been so thoroughly drilled into me.” Valefor couldn’t help but laugh then; he was so earnest, and so careful to avoid giving offense. She liked him, though, in spite of that.  
“I’ll keep that in mind, Khalen.”

And then they came to Bevelle, and in the dark chamber below the machine-driven pathways, she met Bahamut for the first time. The boy was a few years younger than her, and Valefor was surprised at first to see him dressed as a Zanark child, rather than a Spiran one. As he materialized in the neat, stone-walled chambers of Khalen’s mind, the boy looked around, apparently noting as Valefor had that all the other fayth were full-grown adults. She stepped toward him, not quite sure how to express her jumbled thoughts. She just wanted the slightly apprehensive boy in front of her to know he wasn’t alone; he wasn’t the only one who had chosen this half-dreaming immortality over a normal life, before really having the chance to live.  
“You, too?” she said quietly, stopping a few steps away from him. The boy looked up at her, stared into her eyes for a long moment, and then nodded.  
And so Bahamut joined them, and they were five. Valefor quickly grew fond of the boy – he was the only one of them who didn’t treat her as an infant, but he had much more insight than one would expect from a boy of eight and a half years. He told her that yes, he had been born in Zanarkand, and his beloved older sister had been a summoner – and that she had died in The War, as had almost everyone else he’d known. Yunalesca had been the only one of his sister’s friends to survive, and the grieving young boy had pledged himself to her plan. “After all,” he said, watching the wind ripple the grass on the huge plain between Bevelle and Zanarkand, “there was nobody else left, for me. And even ‘Lessa and Zaon would be gone soon enough, and I thought that this way, at least I wouldn’t _always_ be alone.” All Valefor could do was wrap her weightless arms around his equally insubstantial shoulders, and watch with him as the breeze brushed grass and wildflowers into long, smooth waves that made her think of the ocean at home.

It was on that broad, seemingly endless plain that Khalen’s pilgrimage came to its sudden end. The trio had been training in the northwest corner of the plateau, enjoying both the battles and the view over the cliff. After a fight with a particularly obstinate Ogre, they had taken a moment to relax, to laugh at one of the multitude of inside jokes that existed between them – and they’d never noticed the Marlboro coming behind them until it was too late. Within seconds, the beast’s debilitating breath attack had all three disoriented, blinded, and virulently poisoned. As the fayth watched in silent horror, Summoner Khalen fell beneath his own sister’s sword, and as he bled out, the girl stepped into her own strike, the slender steel blade cutting deep into her side. Their dearest friend flailed around, blinded and poisoned but unable to do himself fatal harm with his staff, until the venom finally worked its way into his brain and he, too, fell to the ground.  
“NO!!” Valefor shrieked in the fading remains of their sanctuary, falling to her knees as Shiva ran to her side, enfolding the girl in her arms. She hadn’t expected the pain that would come from the severing of the bond between fayth and summoner, hadn’t thought that someone she had come to know and respect, and even love a little, could be torn from her so cruelly and quickly. She screamed until her form faded away, until there was no mouth left to scream – until her consciousness returned to the stone statue beneath the temple on her island and she drifted back into restless dreams. 

She mourned there for some time, as she had for Yunalesca, and then there were others – men and women, old and young, some barely more than children. Many of them died on the pilgrimage – always sudden, always painful, and always heartbreaking for the fayth who had grown to love them – and many more gave up halfway. That was less painful, because although the bond was broken, at least Valefor and the others could tell themselves that _this_ one would still live, still breathe, still laugh and sing and love and – and _live_. 

The worst, though, were the ones that actually made it all the way to Zanarkand. After surviving the fiends, the mountains, the jagged metal walkways that snagged robes and trousers and dresses, they would finally stand in the belly of the ruined stadium (Bahamut hated it there – he had loved blitzball in life, and seeing ‘his’ stadium reduced to a yawning ruin was almost physically painful). And they would stand before the shade of Lady Yunalesca, still slender and lovely as she had been the day she had met Valefor in the dim light of a half-finished temple (and Shiva would whisper the word “unsent” like a curse, and shudder as she looked at the deathless woman). And Yunalesca would tell them the horrific truth – that there _was_ no single Final Aeon, no fayth who waited, dreaming, beneath that curving stone. That the fayth of each Final Aeon was formed from a guardian of the summoner who called it. That not only would the Calm cost the life of the summoner, but that of one of the people she trusted most, one of the few in whose hands she would place her life. Unsurprisingly, most of them turned away in revulsion, saying that they would gladly sacrifice themselves, but not those they loved.

And every single time, Yunalesca would strike them down where they stood. Every time, her hands, the same hands that had molded the fayth statues in their temples, would send waves of darkness at the fayth’s champions. Every time, she would shake her head in apparent disappointment, and call the fiends to her side to consume the bodies. And every single time the fayth stood horrified, watching helplessly as she who had extended their lives, ended another. No word, no breath of what happened in the dead city of Zanarkand could reach the outside, and Yunalesca was willing to kill to protect that secret.

After far too many years of this macabre parade, there came one pair, summoner and guardian, brother and brother, staff and sword. Gandof and Geran. And when they stood before Yunalesca, the younger of the two laid one hand on his brother’s slumping shoulder and said, “Very well then. If it takes my sacrifice as well as yours to end this suffering, then so be it.” He had paused then, continuing in a quieter voice. “And this way, I won’t have to figure out what to do with myself after watching you die. Neither of us will be alone.”  
“…if you are sure, Geran.” The older brother’s voice was heavy, measured. The voice of a man about to die.  
“I am. Come, brother. They will sing our names to the heavens, and peace will return to Spira. I can think of no better way to die than this.”

An hour later, for the first time in centuries, the fayth welcomed a newcomer to the halls of the summoned.  
A week later, for the first time since Yunalesca, Sin was defeated. 

And a moment later, Valefor knew that no matter how deeply she slept, she would never forget Geran’s scream as Yu Yevon shattered the bond between himself and his brother, imposing his own twisted will on the man and twisting the lithe, hound-like Final Aeon into another Sin.

There were two other summoners over the next several hundred years who managed the same feat, and two other guardians who were subjected to the same cruel fate. For Ohalland, the former blitzer, it was Pietro, one of his teammates from better times; for Yocun, her comrade in arms and lover, Lilith. And between them, hundreds and hundreds of others, slaughtered by fiends, by rivals, or by Yunalesca herself. 

Sometimes the summoners would find their way to the Al Bhed, and in those meetings the woman called Leviathan would slip gently into the halls of the fayth. The mother-protector of the desert people looked much like her brother – same light hair, same sea-glass eyes, and the same quiet sense of purpose. She mentioned once that she had “resources” of her own that they couldn’t access, and when Valefor questioned her (a little girl’s curiosity, unblunted by her centuries of sleep) the slim, sun-browned woman explained as best she could.  
“Part of the reason I wanted our people to take me from the temples was because there are two paths for one such as us,” she’d said, dropping down to the floor and leaning back against a pillar. She used her hands when she talked, the girl noticed – waved them around, drew pictures in the air with her slender fingers, accompanying her words with graceful movements. “Your power is directed outwards – you fight, and damned well if my brother tells me true, and you join with the summoners and your energy is all directed at something outside yourself. Right?” Valefor nodded. “Me, on the other hand… I’ve never joined with another, never been called to fight a fiend, never turned this magic to anything outside of my own skin. In one way, I suppose that makes me weaker than you – but it also gives me a gift.” She looked up, straight into Valefor’s eyes. “I can’t always understand what I see, but… I see the general shape of what lies ahead. I can see the future. And if I concentrate, I can see what we have to do – to fix what’s been broken here.”  
“Broken?”  
“Yu Yevon… he was never meant to have dominion like this. Never meant to rule for more than his lifespan, and certainly not to live forever as the abomination he’s become. We’re going to be the ones to fix it, I think – and I think you, Valefor, will have a very large part in the final act. No, I don’t know details,” she said as the girl’s lips parted on a question, “and I don’t know if I will until it’s almost too late. All I know is that there’s going to be a couple people who will take history in their hands and shape it anew, and you’re going to be very involved with one of them.” 

Some decades after Yocun, Valefor and Bahamut visited the dream city of “Zanarkand,” Yu Yevon’s dying dream made into flesh and stone and lights. They had done this often over the centuries, walking the brightly lit streets hand in hand and watching the people in this tiny world without Sin. The two could alter their appearances slightly here, enough to pass for residents – Valefor’s beads and headband morphed into a bright red cap with a bobble on the top, and Bahamut’s tunic became a loose shirt with a blitzball team’s logo on the front. Most people who saw them thought they were brother and sister, but didn’t take much notice beyond that. It was in the dream city that she found out why he loved blitz so much – his sister, the summoner, had been in love with a blitz player, and Bahamut had loved watching him play. The young man had been like a brother to him, and losing him had hurt the boy as much as losing his sister. Not for the first time, Valefor wondered at her friend’s resilience – to lose everything he’d known, everyone he’d loved, and still be able to go on. 

The fayth found it calming, when they were not with a summoner, to spend time here - to find a sliver of normal life in this world of dreams. It was also one of the few places they could have some form of privacy, which Shiva said she found very useful at times; Valefor didn’t quite understand the sly little smile that went with that statement, or Ifrit’s answering smirk. Regardless, the memory world summoned by the last residents of Zanarkand was the fayth’s sanctuary from the church and their summoners and the constant threat of Sin.

Valefor found that spending a day or two here seemed to help heal the parts of her heart that wouldn’t stop bleeding after losing another summoner. She had been particularly close to Yocun, and to Lilith, her beautiful, loyal, doomed lover. Yocun had called Valefor “little sister”, answered her questions about the changing world around them (why summoners, not shamens, now danced the Sending, and why the Al Bhed were outcast now, and what had happened to the cities she’d visited with her first summoners, and dozens of others) and indulged her fondness for forests and green things, lingering in Kilika’s forests on the pretense of training. Lilith had asked Valefor about the world she’d lived in, back when the forests had been populated by animals instead of fiends, when cities were still large and built on machina, before the Crusaders had even existed (or been necessary). Valefor tried to remember Lilith like that, helmet in her lap and dark hair flowing around her shoulders, her hazel eyes and warm smile as she listened to the stories of a world long dead. Her aeon had been beautiful too, graceful and serpentine, with rainbows reflecting off her scales, but Valefor preferred to remember her as a woman.

She hadn’t trusted herself to answer Lilith when she asked about Yunalesca.  
She’d found out soon enough, anyway.

“Ixion told me he had an idea,” Bahamut told her over the ice-cream sundaes they ordered from a corner café (strawberries and sprinkles with extra fudge for her, bananas and nuts and half a can of whipped cream for him). “He thinks – well, his sister thinks – that there might be a way to end all this.”  
“All what?” she asked as she dug her spoon into the bowl again and lifted a large dollop of cold, creamy sweetness toward her lips.  
“The summonings. Sin. This endless dreaming – and Yu Yevon himself.” Valefor dropped her spoon and stared at him.  
“…What?” she whispered, wide-eyed in disbelief and ignoring the spilled ice cream melting in her lap. She’d forgotten about Leviathan’s visions, and at the time, she hadn’t really bought into the idea anyway. The very thought – Sin and Yu Yevon were eternal as the tides, weren’t they? Spira’s never-ending punishment, the embodiment of their transgressions, named for the sins it personified… they could end it? “How?” 

The plan, as far as either of them understood it, revolved around the subtle difference between the people in the dream city and those in the rest of the world. A soul from the dream world could survive fairly easily if taken into the outside, and would be indistinguishable from other people – unless, by some chance, that soul was chosen by another to be their Final Aeon.  
“At first blush,” Ixion tells them all later, five friends-like-family sitting on the pier with their feet hanging into the surf, “it would seem that a soul from this place would make a slightly weaker Aeon – one that Himself will be able to possess much easier.”  
“Leading to more chaos, more death, and more of the things that make Herself happy,” Ifrit mused. Out of habit, and just in case, they didn’t refer to Yunalesca or her father by name. The less attention they drew to themselves during this discussion, the safer they would be.  
“Exactly,” Ixion said. “She’ll leap at the chance. But if the person has the right kind of personality – stubborn, loyal, you all know the type – it’ll actually be _harder_ for Himself to complete the possession. The transformation into Sin will be easy, but to actually subjugate the fayth himself? Not so easy.”  
“I think I see a problem,” Ifrit said with a frown. “Even if we get someone from here out into the outside, and even if that someone becomes a Final Aeon, which is going to take a _lot_ of luck… then what? The people are too blinded by the church’s propaganda, nobody’s going to think of anything but the Final Aeon as a way to beat Sin. The next summoner to make it Zanarkand is going to go down the same road as all the rest, and we’ll be back in the same spot as before.”  
“Not necessarily,” Shiva told him. “It will be easy for Himself to possess the aeon, but he won’t be able to force it to attack people so easily. We’ll have some time.”  
“Still, you’re never gonna find someone out there who will even dream of trying to destroy Sin without the Final Aeon. You’d have to…” he trailed off, eyes wide in realization.  
“Take another soul from here,” Valefor finished Ifrit’s sentence. “Someone who’s never heard of the Final Aeon, someone who will be able to look at it from a fresh perspective. You’re right - if we get the right person, this could actually work.”  
“Leave that part to me,” Bahamut said, somewhat more serious than he usually was in the dream city. “I think I know how this story’s supposed to go. It’s going to take a little while, but it’ll work. Promise.” 

A generation later, Valefor and Bahamut sat on a rocky point just inside the border of the dream; he sat quietly watching the waves while she danced on her toes over the waves – dancing was one of the things she missed about having a body. She hummed a song she’d heard the last time she had watched the world over a summoner’s shoulder, something bright and sweet and easy to move to, as she twisted and turned over the slick rocks and foaming water alike.  
“Look,” Bahamut said suddenly, pointing out towards the open water. She caught herself on the end of a turn and peered out toward the tiny figure – a man? – swimming farther and farther away from the lights of the city – and then she gasped as Sin rose out of the waves not far away from him.  
“He’ll be killed, we have to –” she reached out, as if to pull him back to safety, when Bahamut grabbed her arm.  
“No,” he said, “this is supposed to happen. Remember that conversation we had on the pier?” She looked back out toward the helpless little figure, dwarfed by the monstrosity next to him, and understood. They would use Sin’s own power to draw out and sustain those who were the key to its downfall.  
“It begins,” she breathed into the wind, and he nodded.  
“The beginning of the end.”

“Why do you come here?” she asked the figure in red, as she asked every summoner who stood before her. This one was tall, maybe thirty years old, with warm blue eyes and robes that reminded Valefor of a tulip turned upside-down. She remembered the warm climate of her island home, and wondered if the heavy garments made him uncomfortably hot – and if a stiff wind would take that strange headdress and send it flying through the air like a kite.  
“I have to defeat Sin,” he said simply. “I wish to enlist your aid in that effort.” She raised an eyebrow at his choice of language.  
“You have to?” she said gently. “Why are you the one who ‘has to’ defeat the abomination?”  
“So my daughter won’t.” Valefor blinked, and the man closed his eyes. “Yuna, she… she can hear the fayth in Bevelle, she’s been talking about it for the last year. I know she has the talent, and I know she’ll realize it someday as well.” He looked up at the fayth. “If _I_ defeat it now, _she’ll_ never have to risk her life trying to. The hardest thing she’ll ever have to do with her gift is dance the sending. Sin will never touch her life again.” He sighed, the fire and determination leaking out of him like air from a balloon. “Sin took her mother from me; I will not let it harm her as well.” Valefor watched him for a moment, and then walked to the edge of the curved stone above her statue, dropping to one knee to look into the face of the kneeling summoner.  
“I hear your prayer, Summoner Braska,” she said formally, “and I accept it.” She reached out, wrapping her incorporeal fingers around his. “Let’s go.”

“That’s the one from the city,” Bahamut whispered to her as they looked through Braska’s eyes at his companions.  
“I thought so,” she said, pulling them back into the comfortable, homey rooms of the summoner’s mind. “He doesn’t… _feel_ the same as the people from this world.” She sat down on the cushioned bench by the wall, looking out a window that showed a cityscape she recognized as the northern side of Bevelle.  
“No, but luckily most people can’t tell. That’s been handy at a few points – most people just think Jecht’s a drunkard or a lunatic. Even Braska and Auron don’t know the truth.”  
“I think we might want to keep it that way,” Ixion said from behind the boy. “Easier if we don’t have to explain to them why it _has_ to be Jecht who makes the sacrifice, and just let them think they made the decision themselves.”  
The conversation continued, hashing and rehashing the plan for the man from Bevelle and the man from Zanarkand, but Valefor just looked out the window at the memory of birds flying over the city skyline.

They had one stop left to make before Zanarkand – in Macalania, where Shiva would join them and they would be all together again for the too-short time between the final temple and the end of the journey. But Braska had one more thing he wanted to take care of before finishing his pilgrimage.  
“We’re going _where_?”Auron exclaimed, staring in shock at his summoner.  
“Bikanel,” Braska answered calmly. “There… are some things I would like to discuss with Elder Cid before I reach Zanarkand. The transports are swift,” he said, cutting off his guardian’s protest before the younger man could say more than a word, “and it shouldn’t take more than a few hours to conclude our business there. Besides,” he smiled warmly, “the desert sunset is unlike anything else you’ve ever seen.”  
Bikanel, it turned out, was a never-ending desert, broken only by jagged spires of rock and the occasional oasis. In a valley hidden by a few particularly high dunes, however, they found a massive city carved out of sandstone and steel, the Home the Al Bhed had built for themselves in this unforgiving sea of sand. Valefor could see Braska’s memories of this place – and of the beautiful, spirited woman who had won his heart here. They were mostly happy memories, though – the sorrow didn’t creep in until later.  
As the guards escorted the three men through the surprisingly cool halls (Ixion said it was called “air conditioning”) Valefor listened to the conversations around them, surprised to find that riding in Braska’s mind apparently meant she could understand Al Bhed as well as he did. Suddenly, a door near the end of a hallway opened, and a small yellow blur came rocketing out, crashing into Braska, bouncing off him and landing on her bottom.  
“Hi mister! What’s your name? My name’s Rikku!” the blur – a little girl with bright blonde braids and huge eyes – said brightly. “Are you here to see my papa? Why are you dressed so funny? Aren’t you hot when you go outside? Your dress looks like flower petals, it’s really pretty but it would look better in green. Green’s my favorite color, what’s yours?” The little girl talked fast, without waiting for an answer for any one of her questions before she fired off the next one. Braska chuckled and knelt down to face her on her own level.  
“It’s nice to meet you, Rikku,” he replied to her in her own language. “My name’s Braska, and yes, I’d like to speak to your father if he’s not busy. My clothes aren’t heavy enough to be hot outside, and I’m glad you think they’re pretty. They’re red because it was the favorite color of someone I love very much. But I think they might have looked nice in green, as well.”  
“She’s something, isn’t she?” Leviathan said fondly, materializing next to Valefor in her soft green tunic and leggings.  
“She’s precious, yeah, but she’s still just a little girl, isn’t she?” Ifrit said, looking again at the giggling child tugging at Braska’s headdress.  
“For now, yes, but little girls do grow up.”  
“Most of them,” Valefor said quietly, the words coming out before she realized she’d said them. Via laid one hand on the young girl’s shoulder with an apologetic smile, and Valefor covered that delicate hand with her own. “Don’t worry about it.”  
“There is something special about this child, isn’t there?” Shiva asked, gently changing the topic.  
“You bet there is,” Via said, sitting cross-legged on one of the comfortable chairs in Braska’s mental space. “Unless I’m very much mistaken, she’s basically going to be my champion in this last big fight we’re building up to. Little Rikku won’t be the one making the decisions, but she’s still going to have a big part in this.” She sighed, leaning back and running her hands through her sunlight-blonde hair. “She’s my part in this, and part of her voice will be mine. She won’t know it, but she can already hear me sometimes. Bahamut’s already begun his part in this – the boy in the dream world, remember? Jecht’s son.” Valefor nodded – she’d seen the boy through her friend’s memories a few times, all big blue eyes and petulant childish emotions, but a good heart and a strong sense of loyalty. “Your part, little sister, is going to be the hardest one, I think. The other two will be guardians – you will be guiding the summoner herself. Can you guess who it’ll be?”  
“Braska’s daughter,” she whispered.  
“Good girl,” Via said with a smile that crinkled her eyes.  
“It all makes sense, doesn’t it?” Valefor said, her mind working very fast now. “The girls are family, aren’t they – Braska’s wife was Cid’s sister.”  
“Yes, Elena,” the older woman said with a sad smile and a nod.  
“And they’ll all be friends, won’t they? From what I can tell, the boy and Rikku are going to be fast friends –”  
“Like brother and sister, yes.”  
“– and he and Yuna will have the fact that their fathers journeyed together, and the two of them together will be able to convince Yuna that there’s another way besides the Final Summoning to beat it, and…”  
“And that’s what’s going to make your job so hard, little sister.” Leviathan looked into her eyes. “She has to be devout enough to go through the training, but open-minded enough to consider the idea that it isn’t the only way. Enough faith in the teachings to take the journey, but enough faith in herself and her friends to believe in them instead. That’s a fine line to walk, Valefor. Do you think you’re up to it?”  
“I do,” she said after a moment. “I have to be.”  
“Good.” Leviathan stood up, stretching. “It looks like our respective little boys are done talking, so I suppose I should take my leave soon. I’ll see you in a few years, little sister.” She smiled warmly before fading away. “Oh, and Braska’s right about the desert sunset. Don’t miss it.”

Far too quickly, they arrived at Zanarkand. Valefor hated the walk through the devastated city, the swirling pyreflies and twisted ruins. She’d never seen anything but destruction here.  
“You seem distraught,” Braska whispered to her. “Is something wrong?”  
“I have been here too many times,” she told him, “and every time has wrought my heart.” She paused. “I hate losing my summoners,” she said softly, “no matter how they go. It always hurts, and this is almost always where it happens. And it’s never gotten any easier.” She felt slightly ashamed of admitting that – after all, the fayth were supposed to be completely devoted to the idea of destroying Sin. To admit that her purpose involved such pain seemed somehow to dishonor that conception.  
“I am honored,” Braska said gently, “that you care for me so. I apologize for the pain my death will bring, but I go to this fate in the hopes that it will be many, many years before you must come here again.”

At the bottom of the gutted stadium, they found Yunalesca where she had always waited. Valefor could scarcely believe the betrayal she felt as she looked at the woman’s deathless face – to think that those same lips had promised her vengeance for her family – to think that that same voice had spoken of ending the terror Spira faced. Instead, she had bound it even deeper in thrall to her father and his millennium-long grudge. Valefor wondered if she’d ever be able to convince one of her summoners to send the woman’s shade to the Farplane. It would do Spira well to have her gone…  
But Jecht, following the plan he’d never known he was part of, offered himself as the sacrifice, and Braska accepted. They both charged Auron with the care of their children, and the two friends walked unafraid to their deaths.  
Valefor felt sick as she watched them.

Normally, when the newborn fayth of a Final Aeon materialized in the halls of a summoner’s mind, the older fayth kept a bit of distance – perhaps the one in whose domain the sacrificed had grown up would comfort them, or in the case of Lilith, Valefor and Shiva had distracted her with stories until the time came to fulfill her purpose. Now, though, Jecht needed to know of his part in the plan. He needed to know so that he knew when and how to fight back, and what his last job as guardian would be.  
“So wait…” he said, shaking his head. “You mean to tell me, that you sucked me out of my home, separated me from my family, and led me here to my death – and my best friend’s! – and now…” He paused for breath, leaning forward to brace his elbows against his legs and stare down at the floor. “Now you want me to do the same thing to my son?”  
“I’m not going to pretend it’s fair,” Bahamut said, with surprising candor for someone who looked seven years old. “Unfortunately, it’s the only way to end this mess.”  
“If I say no?” Jecht spat the words as if they tasted bitter in his mouth. “If I said to hell with you and your plans, leave my boy alone?”  
“Then Braska will have died in vain.” Bahamut’s tone was matter-of-fact, and Jecht snorted.  
“Not only that,” Shiva said quietly, intensely. “This Calm won’t last long – your soul is of Yu Yevon’s own creation, he can possess you easily. A few years from now, a decade or so, there will be another High Summoner who will fight and die – and it will be Yuna.” Jecht looked up at the grave-faced woman, his expression stricken.  
“Now that’s _really_ not fucking fair,” he said, the profanity dropping in between his words with practiced ease. “You want me to choose which one of them has to die!?”  
“Not precisely.” Ixion’s voice was calm as he spoke. “If you bring your son here, he will choose on his own to give his life for hers – it will feel as natural as breathing to him. If not, there will be nobody to hold Yuna back from following her father’s path, and she will die. Your choice is whether or not to bring him here. After that, the decisions are his.” Jecht was silent for a minute, staring at his clasped hands. When he spoke, Valefor was surprised to hear the trace of pride in his voice.  
“My little crybaby’s gonna grow up into the kind of man who’d give his life for a friend?”  
“Must run in the family,” Shiva said with a gentle smile. Jecht sighed.  
“Lemme think about it, alright?”  
“Of course.”

They all stood together as Braska came to the Calm Lands, waiting for Sin as it came over the horizon. The abomination always seemed to know when a summoner was ready for it (Valefor remembered Lilith, so strong and vivacious, so devoted to Yocun, and she was glad the woman’s suffering was almost over) and came here of its own accord.  
“Bahamut,” Jecht said quietly, watching the approaching monstrosity. “You’re the one who runs things in my Zanarkand, right?”  
“In a way, yes. Why?”  
“Do me a favor, and try to keep Tidus out of too much trouble?” Bahamut chuckled slightly.  
“I will. Don’t worry.”  
“Valefor,” Jecht addressed her directly, “Braska asked Auron to take Yuna to Besaid. Keep –” his voice broke slightly. “Keep her safe, OK?”  
“Of course,” she promised.  
“Then…” he took a deep breath. “Alright, I’ve decided – I’m in. Let’s do this thing.”  
“You’re a brave man,” Shiva said warmly, laying a hand on his shoulder.  
“No, I’m not. I don’t think I’ve ever been this scared, to tell ya the truth.”  
“But that’s what bravery is – being scared, but still going forward.”  
“Then I’m probably the bravest son of a bitch who’s ever lived,” he said with the peculiar bravado of the condemned, “because I think right now, I’m also the most terrified.”  
Valefor closed her eyes as Braska began the Final Summoning, and waited for the sharp knife-stab pain of the bonds breaking.

She did not sleep immediately after she returned to her statue, but waited some few days – long enough to sense the arrival of a sorrowing, frightened young girl with an inborn talent for summoning. Long enough to reach out and wrap her protection around Yuna, to keep her safe while she grew up, to gently take residence in the girl’s mind long before she’d ever know the fayth was there.  
Sometimes, as Yuna grew older, Valefor would actually speak to her. The tone of their conversations was friendly and comfortable, intimate and trusting – Yuna had no secrets to hide from her. Valefor had only one big one that had to stay secret, but other smaller secrets to reveal in return. Valefor learned much about the girl in the course of the quiet mental conversations – she loved her friends, she missed her father, she wished she could run and play instead of having to sit quietly during meditations. Yuna loved to dance, sometimes singing old folk songs as she moved like a willow bending in the wind. Valefor found herself growing very fond of the young woman, and very protective as well. She’d lost too many summoners over the years – this one, Valefor decided, would not die in the course of her duty. She would not watch this girl die as so many before her. It would not happen.

Valefor and Bahamut spoke often over the next decade, usually in that same ice cream shop (now run by the daughter of the former proprietor) over the same sundaes. Yuna was adored as the daughter of the High Summoner, spoiled as much as the temple could allow (not much) and she grew very close to a few of the other orphans in the care of the temple. Auron found his way to Zanarkand, to the surprise of the fayth, and he watched as Tidus grieved over his mother, made new friends, and joined a seed-league blitz team.  
They came to the conclusion that a bit of a romance might serve their purposes when their charges were about twelve years old. It was something they’d never really discussed – the strange feeling that, if they’d been five or six years older when Yunalesca had changed them, they might have had the sort of relationship Shiva and Ifrit did. The part of Valefor that was not quite twelve years old saw him as a best friend, almost a brother. The part of her that was almost a thousand years old wondered if she could have seen him as a lover, if given the chance. She wondered if that was why it felt strangely natural to have their little avatars fall in love, even if they themselves couldn’t.  
The changes in the children were subtle – give him a fondness for brunettes and a need to protect those he loved, give her a soft spot for blue eyes and a love of watching blitzball. With those small changes, tiny nudges in this or that direction, the fayth formed the two young people into who they had to be for the plan to work.  
Valefor couldn’t help but feel guilty about it sometimes. She sometimes wondered who Yuna would be without the unnoticed fayth in her head, steering her toward a destiny of which she had no idea.

Almost ten years after Braska’s death, as Yuna neared the end of her apprenticeship, Valefor and Bahamut visited the dream city again – “one last time,” as he said. It would only be a few weeks before Yuna finished her training, and her entering the Cloister of Trials would be the signal for Jecht to visit his hometown once again. After that, Zanarkand may well not exist anymore – Lilith’s Sin had warped the city just by brushing against it, so for Jecht to force his way into the center of the city itself may well destroy the town.  
They sat above the blitzball stadium, watching the championship game in the winter tournament – Abes versus Archers, a fairly friendly match since the two teams were from the same district. Valefor wasn’t paying much attention to the game itself, but she _was_ watching the rookie forward on the Abes – a handsome young man with a beautiful smile, a natural talent for playing the crowd and a very, very good shot-on-goal average (along with a half-dozen other stats that Bahamut rattled off as he narrated the game from on high, and which Valefor didn’t really listen to). She thought of Yuna, and decided that the young woman would probably fall head over heels for him at first sight – mission accomplished, as far as that element of it.  
She tried not to think about what would happen at the end of the plan. 

“Do you ever feel a little guilty about what we’re doing to them?” she asked over one last ice cream sundae.  
“Sometimes,” he replied. “We raised them as lambs for slaughter, but then we got attached. Now that the time’s come…” he trailed off, absently shaping the ice cream into a smooth cone with the back of his spoon. “It hurts a little. More than a little. But we have to do it, right?”  
“…right. I think.”  
Two weeks later, Sin returned to the dream city.

Valefor smiled to herself as she woke in her temple to the sound of a light, feminine voice reciting a summoner’s prayers. It was strange to think that this could very easily be the last time she woke in this cool, dark space.  
 _She’s here. Are we ready?_ she sent her thought to Bahamut.  
 _Not quite – an Al Bhed ship picked the boy up. We had to improvise. Can you stall her?_  
I think so. We want them to meet up while they’re still in town, right?  
Yes, it’ll be easier if they’re together from the start. Can you give me a day or so? Valefor frowned slightly.  
 _I’ll try, but that’ll be stretching things. Hurry them up if you can._  
All right. I’ll see you soon. Keep them safe.  
Of course. She stretched beneath the stone, weighing her options. She had already planned on letting Yuna wait an hour or two before answering her prayer – no need to make it obvious, after all. No need to let her know that there was never a chance she wouldn’t be accepted, never a chance that she would fail. After a few hours, Valefor peeked above the edge of the stone, fairly sure that the girl’s eyes would be closed as she recited the age-old prayers.

At seven, when she’d arrived in Besaid, Yuna had been a tiny slip of a girl, all shy smiles and smooth brown hair done in pigtails and pretty white and blue dresses. Now, at seventeen, she was gravely beautiful, in white and gold and royal purple, her hair cut slightly above her shoulders. Valefor then looked beyond the reverent posture and flawless performance of the prayers to the girl’s mind, open to her now as it never had been while she had stood above the temple floor. Yuna was bright, quick to learn and quicker to understand (no wonder she’d had no trouble memorizing the complicated prayers), but more than a little naïve and just a little too trusting of those in authority. _Well,_ the fayth thought, _it’s not as if her guardians are lacking in cynicism, so hopefully she’ll learn from them before that trusting nature gets her in trouble._ She pulled herself up out of the stone, sitting cross-legged on the smooth surface, and waited for the girl to notice she was there.  
To Yuna’s credit, it only took her a moment to realize the fayth was there. Valefor smiled at her as she opened her eyes.  
“Hello, Yuna,” she said simply.  
“Blessed –”  
“No, none of that,” the fayth said, holding up one hand. “Valefor, please. I never understood why they want you to call us by those silly titles – just use my name.” Yuna blinked (Valefor noticed her strange eyes for the first time, a different color on each side) and tilted her head slightly.  
“As you wish, Valefor,” she said quietly. Valefor smiled again before asking her usual question, hoping that this would be the last time.  
“Why do you come here, Yuna?”  
The young summoner pursed her lips in thought for a moment before answering. “Sin returned three years ago. Nobody’s been able to defeat it yet. I – I believe I have the ability to do so, though, and I wish to use that ability. As a summoner, I have a duty to the people of Spira, and I must fulfill it.” She paused. “I know, perhaps better than most, the price of this journey. I pay it willingly. One life is a small cost to stop this slaughter, is it not? If that life must be mine, then so be it.” Valefor cocked her head as she listened.  
“Are you sure you’re only seventeen?” she asked with a slight laugh. “I’ve seen some people twice your age be less gracious about this.”  
“My birthday was last week,” Yuna said, blushing. “The priests wouldn’t let me come see you until afterwards.” Seventeen was the age of majority in modern Spira, Valefor remembered. Of course the elders wouldn’t want to let a child set out on the summoner’s journey.  
“Hmm…” Valefor pretended to ponder the merits of the young woman before her, while she was really occupied with searching the town above for the boy from Zanarkand. She knew from the time spent with Braska and Jecht the feeling of a soul from the dream world, and she was happy to find that the boy was on his way into town – as luck would have it, in the company of one of Yuna’s oldest friends and about-to-be guardians. Now, the only problem lay in timing. “Yuna, you present me with a challenge,” she said after a moment. “There… there are forces at work that are much larger than either of us,” she said, hedging slightly, “and sometimes they, well, they force my hand, for lack of a more graceful phrase. No, no, don’t worry,” she said in response to the girl’s panicked expression, “you’ve done wonderfully, Summoner Yuna.” She put just enough emphasis on the honorific for the now-former apprentice to catch the meaning as Valefor extended her hand. “Only, do me one favor?”  
“O- of course, anything.”  
“Stay put for a little while. There’s something – someone – we’re waiting for, and they haven’t arrived yet. Besides,” she said with a slightly wicked smile, “I’ve met one of your guardians before, and unless she’s changed drastically, it might do her a bit of good to worry for a little while. Right?” Yuna giggled slightly and nodded.  
“I don’t mind tweaking Lulu’s nose a little bit, if that’s what you’d like,” she said warmly. “I love her, but she _is_ very confident, and it’s fun to tease her sometimes.” Valefor chuckled, rising from her sitting position and closing the few steps between herself and the young summoner.  
“Do they still have you fast and sit vigil for a day or two before coming down here for the first time?” she asked, and Yuna nodded. “You must be tired then. Why don’t you rest for a little while before going out again?” She laid one hand on the girl’s cheek, and as the contact brought the two of them into synch, Valefor reached into Yuna’s mind and gently put the girl to sleep. A nice long nap was probably a good thing for her, and it would kill time until the boy’s instinctive need to save those in distress brought him down here. 

Seventeen hours later, Valefor listened to the grinding of the elevator into the Guardian’s Chamber outside her room. “Took you long enough,” she muttered peevishly. She shook her head, and gently woke Yuna from her rest. “Yuna?”  
“Mmm, five more minutes,” she murmured, turning away.  
“Not this time, dear one,” Valefor said firmly. “It’s time to go now.”  
“Alright.”  
Valefor watched over Yuna’s shoulder as she came out of the Chamber. She could feel the girl’s surprise and fascination at the presence of the handsome stranger, and she watched from behind Yuna’s eyes as the two became friends, and Yuna’s fascination with him grew into something deeper. She had to admit, Bahamut had done well with his half of their project; underneath the self-confident swagger, the boy was really rather sweet, as brave as his father, and unfailingly loyal to those he held dear. Tidus could still be a twit at times – but then, she’d never known a seventeen year old boy who couldn’t. The only thing that concerned her was that even though she could tell he was developing the same sort of feelings Yuna was, he seemed to be ignoring them. She went probing in his memory – easy, now that she knew him – and found that Wakka had taken the trouble several times to warn him against “trying anything funny, ya?”. She was more than a little put out at the blitz player – in his eagerness to “protect” his not-quite-sister, he was unknowingly messing up a plan decades older than he was. 

For the most part, Valefor was content to simply watch, through her summoner’s eyes, as they travelled the length of Spira. The world was, even with the fiends and scars of cities long dead, a lovely place, and Valefor felt a slight pang at the idea of this being the last time she would make this journey. Then she felt silly – the whole idea of the plan was that there would be no more journeys that ended in death in the far north. Ifrit joined them in the chokingly hot bowels of Kilika Temple, and the journey continued. The fayth did not speak of the plan and its progress – they didn’t need to. The results were obvious enough, to one who knew to look for them.

As they travelled north on the Highroad, Valefor noted with a certain approval that even if romance was slow in coming, at least Yuna and Tidus were growing into even closer friends. As the youngest of the men, he often got drafted into the second shift of night watch, while the older ones got to sleep without interruptions. Yuna, who seemed to have developed slight insomnia since she became a summoner, often slipped out of the tent she shared with Lulu, and the two would sit and talk quietly through the witching hours, telling each other stories of the places they grew up.  
“OK, see that one? The three really bright stars all in a row?” he pointed up at the sky one night as they talked about constellations, lying side by side in the grass. “If you look at it right, see, those ones are the belt, and there’s his arm with the sword, and that weird not-quite-square set is supposed to be his head.”  
“Oh, I think I can see it… were those supposed to be his legs, down below the three stars?”  
“Yeah, and that fuzzy bit right there is the scabbard. There’s a bunch of really old stories about him – his name was Varana, and he was this incredible warrior, really brave and a little crazy, you know the type.” Valefor, sitting invisible a few feet away, was amused by the fact that Tidus waved his hands around when he talked, almost as much as Leviathan. It was entertaining to watch, as well as to listen to. “And there was this princess, only she was the princess of a country he was fighting against – her name was Ce’vanne, and the two of them fell in love and when her father found out, he had Varana exiled to the sky as punishment – I know, I know,” he said in response to her giggle, “but it’s a folktale, it’s not supposed to make sense. Anyway, Ce’vanne tried to follow him so they could be together in the stars, but she got lost – you can only see the two of them in the sky together on a few nights a year. It’s supposed to be real romantic – there are songs about them and everything.”  
“Yes, it does sound romantic, but also rather tragic,” she said. “They can only be together for those few days…”  
“Yeah, but I guess the point is to make the most of the time they have together? I dunno, at least that’s the way it’s usually told.” He paused for a second. “OK, now you do one.” Yuna hummed softly, turning her head to find a consellation.  
“There, a little to right of the cat one you showed me earlier,” she pointed. “Do you see the way those stars make two arcs?” She traced the pattern with one finger. “Those are the wings, and that little cluster there is the head, and there’s the tail feathers, falling out behind her.”  
“Let me guess, that’s supposed to be Valefor, isn’t it?”  
“Not precisely – the proper name is the Phoenix, but it’s usually represented as her, yes.” Yuna paused for a moment, shifting slightly to put her hand behind her head. “There’s a handful of constellations that the sun passes through each year, and there’s an old belief that the one that the sun is in when a person is born helps determine their personality.” She smiled. “The Phoenix was mine. I always wondered if there was something to that, especially when Valefor accepted me so easily.”  
“Easily? I thought you were down there for the better part of a day.”  
“Well, yes, but it only took an hour or so for her to answer. I passed out for a while after she accepted me. I hadn’t eaten or slept for almost two days at that point, so I guess it’s not really surprising.”  
“You what?” He spluttered slightly, as if offended by the fact that she would do something that could hurt her. “That sounds really dangerous, though!”  
“I know, but it’s tradition.”  
“Yuna,” he said with a sigh, “this is probably going to make you mad, but there’s a lot of stuff that’s ‘traditional’ here that just seems flat-out _wrong_ to me.” She was silent for a long moment.  
“You know…” she said very quietly, “the more I think about it, the more I find myself thinking the same thing.”

On the pinnacle of the Mushroom Rock, Valefor found to her chagrin that Yuna’s trust in the church of Yevon had not yet been completely worn away, and that the girl instantly believed anything Maester Seymour Guado told her. Valefor was puzzled when she first saw the man – he was obviously a summoner, and a powerful one, so why had he never come to her temple? She looked into his mind and recoiled in horror – the man was mad, but not in the blathering, visible way. He was so far into madness that it manifested as cool sanity, masking the maelstrom within his mind. He wanted nothing less than the total obliteration of all life on Spira, and was more than willing to use Yuna’s life – and her death, if needed – to further his ends.  
She couldn’t tell Yuna, of course. The girl had spent too many years in the church. She wouldn’t dare to believe that a Maester of Yevon could possibly be anything but a paragon of virtue. Valefor muttered a few choice words she’d learned from Ifrit over the years as she realized that she couldn’t do anything to warn her charge of the danger she faced. 

Ixion joined them in Djose, nodding approval at Valefor and smiling as he took the measure of the girl he’d pledged himself to.  
“She’s something, isn’t she?” he said as they continued toward the Moonflow.  
“I’m moderately proud of her,” Valefor said with mock humility, and they both laughed.  
“This might just work,” he said, almost to himself. “I never really believed it till now, but seeing them like this… this might just work.”  
“I certainly hope so.”

When little Rikku joined them (how was this confident young woman the same tiny girl she’d seen in Bikanel? And more importantly, why had she just tried to kidnap the summoner she now promised to protect?) Leviathan jumped into Yuna’s mind as she had with so many summoners before.  
“I can’t stay here long,” she said as she materialized. “Yuna’s half Al Bhed, she’ll be able to feel me far easier than any of the others could.” She looked directly at Valefor. “You, my friend, have done a magnificent job. She’s more than suitable for her task. We’ve got problems ahead of us, though.”  
“Lemme guess, one of them’s named Seymour?” Ifrit said, crossing his arms. He hadn’t liked the brutal Guado maester any more than Valefor had.  
“One of them, yes. There’s going to be some serious trouble between my people and the Guado – and no, brother, we’re not allowed to interfere. I know, I know, it’s going to hurt, but we have to let it happen.” There were tears in her eyes as she faced her twin. “If we falter now, we may as well have spent the last century twirling our thumbs. It has to happen.” She sighed. “I have to leave soon. She’s already beginning to sense me – clever girl, but it’s making things difficult for me.”  
“Via,” Valefor said, “why did Rikku try to kidnap her? What’s really going on?”  
“Don’t you remember? They’re cousins. Rikku can’t stand the idea of Yuna dying, and she’s trying to prevent that. Don’t worry,” she said as she faded, “Rikku will do anything she has to, to keep her safe.”

Valefor distrusted Seymour Guado. She had looked briefly into the man’s diseased mind, and drawn back shuddering from the chaos she found within. She would have been happiest if he never came within miles of Yuna again.  
As such, she found herself again borrowing terms from the more entertaining side of Ifrit’s vocabulary, and adding a few she’d heard from Jecht and other residents of Zanarkand, when she heard the insane Guado propose marriage to Yuna.  
“You’re nuts even to think about it,” she told the conflicted girl later that night, after the trip to the Farplane had failed to quiet her completely. The rooms of Yuna’s mind looked much like her father’s had, warm and welcoming and filled with comfortable cushions and chairs. “He’s not doing this because he loves you, Yuna, or even because he _likes_ you. He just wants to use your status as Lord Braska’s daughter to boost his own position.”  
“Hey, kiddo’s right,” Ifrit said, earning an elbow to the stomach from said young girl. “This guy’s bad news, Yuna. Do yourself a big favor and tell him where he can shove his proposal, alright?”  
“Maybe not in such vivid terminology, however,” Ixion said drily, raising an eyebrow, and Yuna giggled.  
“I know it’s nothing but a political match,” Yuna said quietly, “but… something like that would give the people a reason to celebrate, wouldn’t it?”  
“Is that a good enough reason to shackle yourself to someone who feels nothing for you? To give fleeting comfort and entertainment to the masses?”  
“And besides,” Valefor said softly as she put her arms around the seated girl’s shoulders, “remember that we can see what you’re thinking sometimes. We all know your heart lies elsewhere.” Yuna closed her eyes and sighed, leaning her head against Valefor’s.  
“Most children grow up thinking, to themselves, that their father is a hero; I grew up with an entire nation thinking my father was one. Most summoners have one or two guardians, but I have six. Most girls would give anything to catch the attention of a Maester, and I’m about to turn down one’s marriage proposal.” There was the trace of a laugh on her voice. “I never seem to do anything that’s normal, do I?”  
“No, dear one,” Valefor said fondly, “but then again, you’ve never really been normal to begin with.”

Two nights later, in the pouring rain and endless thunder of the plains north of Guadosalam, she called to them again in tears. The most Valefor could make out is “sphere”, “Jyscal,” and “his own father.” She held the sobbing girl, wishing fervently that Shiva was here, since the older woman was much, much better at comforting people after a horrible shock. After a long while, when Yuna had calmed down, she told the fayth what had put her into that state.  
Seymour, it seemed, was not just mad. He was also full-bore evil. To someone like Yuna, whose father had been a beloved hero, the idea of patricide was so repugnant that she could barely put the concept into words.  
She was also convinced that she, of all people, had to expose him and that the only way she had to do so was to accept his proposal, and use that as a bargaining chip. Valefor and the others tried to talk her out of it, but her disgust and horror seemed to have given way to a sort of righteous, indignant determination. And Yuna had inherited her father’s will and, according to Via, her mother’s stubbornness.

Shiva joined them in Macalania, immediately noticed the snarling enmity of her companions towards the Guado maester. She, however, had seen into his mind as well and happened to agree completely with their assessment.  
“We need to stop this,” she said as soon as she faded into existence next to her friends. “This man’s poison.”  
“We know.” Ifrit snorted, crossing his arms. “Trust me, we know. The problem lies in convincing Yuna that he’s more trouble than she can handle.” The sound of angry shouts from the Guardian’s Chamber outside interrupted their conversation. “Well,” he said, looking toward the door, “it looks like we’ll have a little help with the convincing.”

Valefor hadn’t expected to see a battle there. It seemed to happen so fast – one second there was nothing but snarling and shouting, the next Seymour had called his goons in to back him up and started throwing spells. _On the other hand,_ she thought bitterly, _it’s not as if Yevon hasn’t killed to protect secrets before. Why should this be any different?_  
“Let me handle this,” Shiva said sharply as Anima rose out of the floor. “I know her, and she never fights willingly for him. She won’t go all out against me.” The battle between the aeons, vicious as it looked to the humans, seemed to be little more than a conversation between the two women.  
“I’m sorry I have to do this, Anima,” Shiva said sadly. “I wish it wasn’t needed.”  
“I know, Shiva,” the other woman said. The pain in her voice made Valefor wince slightly. “I can’t even reach him anymore; he’s completely mad. Perhaps…” she trailed off, and shook her head sorrowfully. “Perhaps it’s for the best if he’s defeated here. Seymour is no longer my little boy. He’s become some sort of monster. Perhaps it’s for the best if it ends now.”  
“I’m sorry, Anima,” she said again, embracing the softly weeping woman.  
“So am I.”

And then it was over. Valefor couldn’t bring herself to mourn the passing of someone so cruel, but she could feel Yuna’s shock and grief – and her guilt for drawing her friends into this mess. The frantic flight from Macalania Temple was a blur – battles and tears and running over the slick, icy paths, and the single crystal-clear image of Lulu with her outrageous skirt gathered up in one hand as she ran, snarling a Fira spell and aiming the fireball at their pursuers with the other. Valefor felt the ice break beneath them, and jumped out into the real world without thinking, spreading her wings to catch the humans as they fell the hundreds of feet to the ground beneath Macalania. 

“Hello, Jecht,” she said quietly as Sin scooped up the humans in a manner she could almost describe as gentle.  
“Hi, little lady,” he said with a fond, tired smile. “You guys need to get out of here. The Guado are swarming over this place right now.”  
“I was sort of wondering how we’d get out of here,” she said lightly. “Think we could ask you for a lift?” He chuckled.  
“Where to?”  
“Hmm… somewhere the Guado won’t find us, for one. Somewhere we can stop and regroup.” She pursed her lips.  
“Bikanel.” Ixion said quietly. “Yuna and Rikku can get Cid to give them all shelter. And if things get hairy,” he said with a bleak little smile, “well, Yevon may not like machina weapons, but that doesn’t mean they’re immune to them.”

Unfortunately, by the time Yuna had woken up in the desert to find Valefor hovering over her to shield her from the sun, and Shiva casting gentle Blizzards to keep the girl from overheating in the desert afternoon, it was obvious that the group had been completely scattered. Even worse, far from being beyond the reach of the Guado, the desert was swarming with their patrols. One of them hit the young summoner with a gas grenade, knocking her unconscious and rendering her aeons powerless. She didn’t wake until they had gotten her into a swift transport, on the way to Bevelle.

“You know,” Shiva said drily as she watched Ifrit pace around inventing curse words, “normally I’d be telling you to watch your language, but right now, I’m more inclined to join in.”  
“Great, now I know this is really a goddamn disaster,” he growled. “Wanna remind me why we can’t just take things into our own hands and fry the lot of them till they’re crispy and golden brown?”  
“Because then they’ll have even more crimes to charge Yuna with,” Ixion said, “because nobody will ever believe that she didn’t order us to do it.”  
“We’re in a bit of a bind right now, yes.  
“For the moment, all we can do is wait. Once we get to Bevelle, we can assess what we’re working against,” Ixion told them, “and then we can regroup. Until then, we might as well rest up – I think this is going to be a rough ride.”

Valefor squirmed through the whole debacle on the Highbridge, cringing and wincing as she told herself that if she took any action, Yuna would be blamed for it – and given how many of the people standing around them were armed, that would be a very, very bad idea. After a while, she just stopped watching what was happening, curled up into a ball and hummed an old song from her long-ago childhood so that she wouldn’t have to watch this travesty and know that she had no way of preventing it.  
Until a soft call broke through to her. “Valefor?”  
“…Yuna?”  
“I need you now, can you come?” Valefor looked up to what was happening, and blanched in horror. Yuna was standing on the edge of the pavilion, one step away from falling, telling her friends not to worry about her, silently beginning the summoning… and then she took that one step backward and fell, the train of her gown flaring like tail feathers behind her.  
Valefor panicked for the space of a heartbeat before the call took hold on her, and as soon as her wings formed she plunged downward to catch the slender girl plummeting toward the ground. She couldn’t remember terror like this ever gripping her before, couldn’t remember ever being this horrified of what could happen if she wasn’t fast enough, wasn’t strong enough, couldn’t act soon enough. She swerved beneath Yuna, flaring her wings as she turned to catch her summoner. Yuna hit her strong, muscled chest with a thump, gasping for breath as she looked back up at the people high above her.  
“You… I…” Valefor couldn’t seem to find the words as she slowly floated towards the ground. “Don’t ever, ever scare me like that again!”  
“Sorry,” Yuna said in a slightly shaky voice, “but I couldn’t come up with anything else. I can’t believe I just did that.” She huffed slightly, shoulders shaking, and Valefor thought for a moment that the girl was going to cry, but to the fayth’s shock, she actually began to laugh. “I can’t believe I just did that! I just jumped off the Highbridge and I’m not splashed all over the street. That was insane and crazy and it was actually sort of fun!”  
“I’ll admit that was the most memorable method of getting cold feet that I’ve ever heard of,” Valefor said as she ducked into a window above the Cloister of Trials, “but please, give me a little warning next time you almost get yourself killed like that?”  
“If the situation ever comes up again, I will.” She chuckled softly, and looked around at the machina and lights surrounding them. “Where are we going now?”  
“To see a friend of mine. He’s been looking forward to meeting you.”

“She jumped. Off. The Highbridge.” Bahamut’s shock showed in his voice and slightly pop-eyed expression.  
“And it was goddamned glorious,” Ifrit laughed. “Only thing that could possibly have made it better is if she’d flipped off that undead bastard after Valefor caught her.”  
“Which, this being Yuna that we’re talking about, was not going to happen.” Valefor shook her head. “I’ll admit that as grand dramatic gestures go, you don’t get much better, but I don’t think I’ve been that scared in a long, long time.”  
“She jumped off the Highbridge…” Bahamut repeated, and then turned to Valefor. “I thought ‘insane recklessness’ was my responsibility, not yours?” he said with a teasing half-grin.  
“They’re rubbing off on each other, I think,” she answered drily.

She was tempted to watch when the two children met in the spring, but in the end, Valefor gave them their privacy. She did, however, listen in later when Yuna and Rikku were alone in their tent.  
“OK, Yunie,” the petite blonde girl said, flopping down on her bedroll with a grin, “spill. How was it?”  
“I – I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said with a valiant attempt at a straight face. The bright, rosy blush and barely suppressed smile, however, somewhat spoiled the effect.  
“Riiiiight,” Rikku drawled, “the two of you go disappear for an _hour and a half_ and then you come back _holding hands_ and all smiley and blushing and then you try to act like nothing happened? Come on, Yunie,” she whined, rolling onto her stomach and kicking at the air with her heels, “I haven’t gotten any for three whole _months_ because I’ve been following you around, can you really blame me for being curious?” Yuna just looked at her cousin for a moment before breaking down into delighted, if slightly embarrassed, laughter.  
“Well, I don’t really have much to compare to,” she said, blushing even brighter, “but that was certainly very enjoyable. Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she said in response to Rikku’s raised eyebrows and wide eyes, “it was just a kiss. Well, several kisses, but nothing, um, scandalous? Stop laughing!” she said, barely holding in her own giggles.  
“You’re just so… _innocent_ sometimes, it’s cute!” Rikku said as she rolled onto her back, staring at her cousin upside-down as her head fell back over the pillow under her shoulders. “Really? All that time and you were just kissing? Ugh, do I have to teach you everything?” she said teasingly before breaking into giggles again.

The streets of the dead city of Zanarkand had always seemed haunted in some ways, the pyreflies swarming around the feet of the people who walked these streets and crying mournfully. Valefor had always hated it here. The fayth watched silently as Yuna and her guardians battled their way through the hordes of fiends to reach Yunalesca’s sanctum.  
Valefor sat quietly, cross-legged on one of the comfortable cushions, concentrating on breathing in and out as she listened to Yunalesca give the same horrible little speech she’d been giving for the last eon. The same empty platitudes, the same awful lies, and the same impossible, gut-wrenching choice. _Please, Yuna, don’t let us down…_  
Valefor could feel Yuna’s shock, her pain as Yunalesca’s bald-faced statements crushed her faith in the church of her youth. Auron’s shade appeared before them, bleeding inside, heartbroken and alone and lashing out at the one he deemed responsible – and being struck down, the same as every other brave fool who’d ever dared to defy the daughter of Yu Yevon. Yuna’s shoulders drooped as she listened, despair and horror swirling within her. And then… something clenched inside her, reforming the shards of her faith into something more personal, something unshakable. She took one moment to close her eyes, straighten her shoulders, clench her fists and lift her head to look her unsent namesake in the eyes. And speak two words.  
“No one.”  
Valefor took a moment to let those words sink in, to let the feeling of triumph wash over her like waves. This was what it had all led up to – to the moment this girl would stand in this place, and make this choice. And she’d done it perfectly. Now, they just had to get out of here alive… as Yunalesca shifted into a battle stance and Yuna’s guardians moved to shield her, Valefor exchanged one long, pained look with Bahamut. No matter how twisted the woman had become, in life, Yunalesca had been one of the people dearest to him. Now, to stand here preparing to fight her…  
“I can’t,” he whispered to her. “I just can’t.”  
“Don’t worry. I can,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Yuna!” she called. “Let me take her.”  
“What?” The girl’s response was a little surprised, distracted as she concentrated on healing her friends from Yunalesca’s vicious attacks.  
“I… I’ve spent a thousand years watching her kill summoners who made the choice you just did. No more!” she said with tears in her eyes. “I will NOT let you die here!”  
Yuna’s only response was the summoner’s call. 

As Valefor felt the wings and feathers form around her, she stared daggers at the unsent standing before her, smirking as she watched the aeon flare into being before her. Valefor could not form words in this form, could not articulate exactly what she thought about the monster she faced now. So she screamed instead – the cry of a bird of prey, full of rage and the promise of death – as she flared her wings protectively before her summoner. She tossed her head, letting a thousand years’ worth of anger and betrayal build up into a ball of energy behind her eyes. She screamed again, this time letting the magic fly out in a barrage of countless bright lights, arcing out to slam into Yunalesca’s body. The woman fell under the last few hits, stumbling to her knees, and Valefor swooped in for one last, killing attack.  
Yunalesca’s answering strike knocked Valefor back into a stone pillar, but the distraction offered Auron a chance to slip under her guard and land the final heavy blow.

Yunalesca shrieked in pain as her body began to dissolve into pyreflies. As Valefor watched, she breathed a few last words, curled into a ball as the strength of ten centuries left her. And then there was nothing but the sound of the wind and pyreflies swirling around them. 

“It’s over,” Valefor said heavily as she rematerialized, sinking tiredly into a cushion. “No more Final Aeons, ever. She’s gone.”  
“Then…” Shiva turned her head slightly, a pained look on her face, “then this is really the end of the road, isn’t it?”  
“Almost,” Ixion said in a very quiet voice. “We’ve got a few things left to do, but this is almost over.”  
The fayth didn’t speak much after that; instead, they simply sat very close to each other, hand in hand, preparing to face the end of immortality.

“Are you angry with me?” Yuna asked quietly.  
“No, of course not,” Valefor said. “Did you think I was?”  
“You’re so quiet since –” she paused for a second. “Since we reached Zanarkand. Is something wrong?”  
“I’ve… been thinking.” Valefor noticed how tired, how deep her voice sounded. “Yuna, do you remember at the very start of this,” she said with a soft, sad smile, “when I told you that there were forces larger than either of us?” Yuna nodded, sinking down to sit next to the fayth. “Those forces haven’t gone away. You have done everything perfectly so far, Yuna, better than we ever could have hoped, and I have no doubt that you’ll see this through to the end, but…”  
“But what?”  
“There’s a price to your victory,” Valefor said in a very soft voice. She knew she was skirting around the edges of the things Yuna absolutely _couldn’t_ know, but the crushing guilt made her want to give this sweet, brave girl at least a shade of a warning of how bitter her triumph would be. “Those of us who are inextricably tied into this spiral, we can’t exist outside it. The cost of Spira’s freedom,” she said gravely, looking Yuna in the eye, “is nothing less than our very existence. And although I can’t speak for the others, I, at least, am willing to make that sacrifice if that’s what it takes.”  
“But...” Yuna trailed off, looking down with a slightly pained expression. “Aren’t you scared?”  
“A little,” Valefor admitted. “I think anyone would be. But on the other hand, I think I’m ready for it. There are people waiting for me on the other side,” she said softly. “I’ve kept them waiting for such a long time… I’m looking forward to seeing them again.”  
“I’ll miss you,” Yuna said with a gentle smile.  
“I’ll miss you too.” Valefor reached out, laying one hand on the girl’s cheek. “All my summoners have been precious to me, but you’ve been something special, dear one. I’m so proud of you, Yuna. Just be strong for us for a little while longer.” 

They were close enough to watch Jecht as he fought and fell, close enough that he faded into their company for a moment before leaving for good.  
“Turned out pretty well, I’d say,” he said with a grin. “Any last messages for the others that you want me to pass on?”  
“Time enough for talk,” Bahamut said, returning his smile, “when we’ve come following you.”  
Jecht’s laugh lingered even after his form faded away for the last time. 

Too soon, though, Yu Yevon came to claim his next victim. Mindless, reduced to nothing but grudge and need, he didn’t even realize that there was no Final Aeon this time, no newborn fayth to subjugate.  
“I won’t ask you to come this time,” Yuna told them. “I… I _can’t_ ask that of you.”  
“Then, I volunteer,” Ifrit told her, before turning to the others. “I’ll be waiting for you guys on the other side, alright?” Wordlessly, Shiva crossed the small space to his side, laid her hands on his armored chest and kissed him once.  
“Go,” she whispered against his lips. “I’ll see that the others make it there safe before I follow.”  
“Don’t keep me waiting too long,” he replied with a lopsided, falsely brave smile.  
“Have I ever?”  
And then he faded out, and it began. 

“I’ll go next,” Valefor said when Yuna called to them again. “Might as well… get it over with.”  
“Brave girl,” Ixion said warmly. Shiva hugged her, brushing a lock of dark hair off the girl’s forehead. Valefor smiled at her, then turned to Bahamut and held her hands out to him. He took her hands, squeezing slightly and looking up into her eyes. There were so many things that both of them could have said - _we made it, I’m so proud of them, I’m so proud of_ you, I’m so scared right now, I can’t believe this is the end - but all she said was “Mission accomplished, right?”  
“Right,” he said. “We actually pulled it off.”  
“I’ll see you in a few minutes,” she said, squeezing his hands one last time before she turned away, and faded out of that small room for the last time.

The last time. She realized as she shifted into the familiar form of the jewel-toned bird that this really _was_ the last time she’d ever do this. And so she took particular notice of the wind flowing through her feathers, the feeling of strength as she beat her wings, the thrill of magic flowing through her body like blood. She thought briefly, as she watched the dark wisp approach her, that she would miss the feeling of flying.  
“Goodbye, Valefor. Thank you – for everything,” Yuna whispered to her at the last moment before the black smoke infused her body.  
Yu Yevon had no subtlety in his possession – he simply shunted Valefor’s consciousness off to the side, slicing through the threads of energy that had connected her to Yuna. Valefor gasped at the sudden severing, and felt the mad glee her pain gave to the other mind in her body. She hardened her mind, determined not to give this lunatic the satisfaction of knowing how badly she was hurting right now.  
She watched in sick horror as, like a puppeteer, Yu Yevon moved her body to attack the people she’d grown to love over the last few months. The power she’d been so proud of, the strength she’d drawn from her slender, resilient summoner, was now turned against the very people she’d protected so tenaciously. She choked back a scream as Rikku barely dodged a vicious wing strike.

And then there was the scathing blast of Lulu’s Flare spell, and the bite of a blade in her side, and everything turned black.

Valefor regained consciousness one last time as the sun rose, tinting the sea and sky with gold and orange. She stood with the other fayth on the airship’s deck, somewhat in front of Yuna as she danced the Sending. Valefor reached out to her once, feeling the girl’s pain at the loss she was being forced to accept, but then let her hand drop.  
“It’ll get better,” Leviathan said very quietly. She stood hand in hand with her brother at the edge of the deck, facing out toward the rising sun. “Don’t ask me how, but we’ll make it up to her someday.” She turned to smile sadly at the young girl. “You two did beautifully. Thank you.”  
“It’s time,” Shiva said, pointing at the shimmering energy bridge that formed in front of them, leading into… Valefor didn’t know. A bright light obscured anything more than a few dozen feet along the path. Shiva sighed, leaning against Ifrit’s side as his arm curled around her shoulders.  
“The next great adventure,” Ixion said, offering his arm to his sister with an ironic smile. She chuckled, linked elbows with her twin, and the two of them set off along the path to whatever awaited them.  
“Ready?” Bahamut asked from beside his best friend. Valefor looked at him and smiled, taking the hand he held out to her.  
“No,” she said simply. “Don’t think I’d ever be. But I’m still going.” She looked back one last time at Yuna as she finished her dance, at Tidus watching her. “Thank you, dear ones,” she said. 

And hand in hand, the fayth set off into the light.


End file.
